Author's Note: Here we go. The final installment in what is the last of my crazy Infinite Crisis stories (for the forseeable future). I'd hoped to intersect the last chapter with the release of Infinite Crisis #1 last week, but I'll take my wins where I can. I hope you've all enjoyed this (confusing though it may have been). And, if I may be so bold as to plug my own work, check out "Divination" on the Batman section; and watch for a Christmas-themed oneshot cocnerning Kid Flash and maybe even Rose in the Teen Titans section in the months ahead.
Cheers.
The Moon.
The Justice League's Watchtower.
It is on days like this that J'onn J'onzz truly feels the weight of his many years. Watching his friends and comrades argue and bicker with one another while he sits quietly in his seat is…a trying experience. To say the least. And it is even more troubling to him that such instances were growing in number, something he'd become increasingly aware of in past months.
Ignoring the low-toned muttering from both Wally and Hal Jordan at the far side of the room, the Martian's eyes slide over to the doors of the conference room. The heavy grey panels separate abruptly from each other, parting before two familiar figures. Wonder Woman and Aquaman walking behind her.
"Diana," he says quietly, standing from his chair. From his periphery, J'onn noted that while Hal also stands, Wally only crosses his arms defiantly and remains seated. "This is…"
"Unexpected," Hal supplies awkwardly.
When Diana comes to a halt at the opposite end of the long table, her hands threaded tightly behind her, J'onn allows his gaze to flicker to Aquaman. Arthur looks exhausted, but manages a slight nod to J'onn. J'onn returned the acknowledgement as he sat back down.
"We've been looking for you, Diana." Wally's harsh voice cuts through the tension. "We sent out teams. Firestorm, Supergirl. We even tried to call Donna Troy," he remarks. "Why did you decide to come back now?"
J'onn turns to the younger man to his right. "Wally," he says, taking on a hint of warning. J'onn doesn't wait for a response, and turns back to the Amazon. "He means to say," the Martian continues more genially, "That we've spent much time looking for you."
"So you could judge me," Diana asked, her tone distinctly frigid.
"No," J'onn replied immediately, secretly hoping for reassurance.
"Yes," Wally jabs.
"Maybe," Hal Jordan says slowly, as if trying to get his bearings.
J'onn sighs quietly. So much for defusing the situation. He turns to his colleagues. Wally's expression is cold, even through the red coverings of his mask, but his eyes spark with indignation. Hal's face is inscrutable as he keeps his gaze on the Amazon. A soldier's discipline.
Aquaman breaks the silence. "Alright, listen," he says frankly. "Before this degenerates into mindless politics, let's get a sense of perspective." Everyone turns to him, even Diana. Her posture remains as rigid.
Aquaman continues in a calmer manner. "Diana, we want to help you. But you need to explain some things to us."
J'onn's gaze switches over to Diana, hardly daring to hope that this could end peaceably.
"Like what? My actions were justified," she said calmly. "What Light did was unforgivable."
Wally immediately leapt upon her words, as well as from his chair. "What you did was unforgivable," he nearly roared. "You killed him in cold blood, in front of God and everyone. What the hell were you thinking?"
J'onn reaches out at this point, trying to lay a hand on Wally's shoulder. "Wally, calm down. We're all upset about this."
"Like hell you are," he snaps, jerking away from J'onn. "If you were really upset about this, we'd be getting Diana's prints now. Hell, she'd already be locked up if you were upset about this!"
Hal speaks up at that point, his voice cool. "Assuming we can take her under U.S. law. Look, the fact of the matter is, Dr. Light is dead." His toned hardens. "Now, what can we do about it?"
"You could get over it," Diana responds, her blue eyes sparkle for a moment as they meet Hal's gaze. "Light was a monster, Hal. You were there, all those years ago." She stops then and turns away from them, moving towards the window. Even J'onn strains to hear her final statement.
"You saw what he did to Sue."
Hal sighs and slumps a bit, allowing some of his tiredness to become apparent. "I voted against the mind-wipe, Diana, and had I been there, I would have stopped you from killing him."
Officially, J'onn agreed with his words. The cardinal rule was that murder was never the answer. It is a conscious decision, a destructive act. And it made Diana no better than Light himself.
And yet, there is a voice within J'onn's mind. A nagging doubt at the back of J'onn's head. Would the battle ever end? Or…as went Mars, would Earth surely follow suit? Because of men like Luthor and women like Diana? The question is vague.
Diana shifts to face the group, though her eyes were focused completely on Hal. "You really believe that?" she whispered.
He stares back at her; his voice is steady: "I have to. It's why I do what I do."
Diana's body tenses at that point. Aquaman quickly recognizes it for what it was: an agitation. He and J'onn exchange glances, and Aquaman turns to face Diana and Hal.
"Look, we can dance around the issue all night," Aquaman says decisively, stepping carefully between the Amazon and Hal. He turns to Wonder Woman. "I brought you here, Diana, because I thought it would be in our collective best interest if these things were dealt with. Do you realize what you did?"
But Diana doesn't even look at him. She speaks only to Hal. "I saved the world from that monster. If you—or anyone else for that matter—cannot see that, then you truly are lost."
"You owe us an apology," Wally growled, speaking when Hal did not deign to respond. "You broke the law, crossing a line you know we can't. We're not judges, Diana. It's a matter of trust, and when you snapped Light's neck…you violated that trust." He shakes his head and speaks quietly—bitterly. "You ought to be ashamed."
Diana stares at Wally. Unexpectedly, she approaches Wally and stares into his eyes with a scientist's scrutiny.
The sound from the stinging slap across Wally's face resounds through the room; though neither he, nor Hal or Aquaman, move to restrain her. They only watch in a morbid fascination.
"You ought to be more careful next time, Wally," Diana says softly, her onyx hair falling down the sides of her face. "I doubt Linda would approve of this soapbox you're on." Then, suddenly, she turns to stare at them. When her eyes landed on J'onn, it was only through sheer willpower that the Martian did not flinch.
"And the rest of you… you're all so transparent," she hisses. "There's not a soul among us – the League, the JSA, the Titans – who knew of what Light did and given the opportunity, wouldn't have done what needed to be done. Not a soul."
Silence. J'onn could feel the heat radiating from Wally next to him, could literally hear his chaotic thoughts. Hal and Aquaman are silent, staring at the Amazon, stricken.
"Your silence speaks volumes," she says after a moment. Walking past them, Diana moved quickly for the doors and looking almost above the other Leaguers. Like they were beneath her notice. "I'm leaving. When you decide to legitimately discuss this—when you are ready to treat me as an equal—I might come back. Until then, stay away from me. Don't ask why, and don't try to contact me.
"This is it."
J'onn reclines in his chair, blocking out Hal and Aquaman's arguments while Wally heads for the teleporters. At the back of his mind, the nagging question grows. How had things fallen so far?
Everything the Justice League had struggled to build was collapsing from within.
Keystone City.
Wally West and Linda Park.
"Are you alright?" Linda's voice is a soft effete in my ears as I walk into the living room. I find the sofa and sink into it, lying lazily across the cushions, and press my fingertips to my temple.
"My head hurts," I groan.
"What happened?"
"Arthur found Diana. Brought her up the Watchtower. It was like a damn witch-hunt, Linda. We crucified her."
"I'm sure it wasn't that bad," she tries to reassure, tracing a circle around my chest.
A sigh. I close my eyes, and see it again. Diana slapping me. "She told me…she said I should be ashamed."
Linda leans close to me and whispers in my ear.
"You don't have anything to be ashamed of; you're a good man with an honest job…and a family that loves you very much. Not to mention moonlighting as the 'Fastest Man Alive.'"
My eyes open and I raise my head to see Linda looking right back at me. Her lips part and she smiles thinly. The smile I fell in love with.
Themyscira.
Talia Head. Daughter of the now-dead ecoterrorist Ra's al Ghul.
In a move that raised questions among those who knew her best, Talia Head pledged her services—including leadership of the HIVE and KOBRA international espionage agencies—to Lex Luthor's Society some months ago. In the intervening time she has carried out Luthor's whim to the word, occasionally meeting failure and occasionally meeting success.
Currently, she stands motionless on a hill at the far edge of Paradise Island—what its inhabitants would call Themyscira. The Daughter of the Demon, as she'd come to be known in her years of servitude to her father, feels a biting cold wind at her back, wrapping her loose-bound hair around the shape of her neck. She holds her arms close to her chest to channel natural body warmth. In one hand she holds a small communicator the size of a Personal Digital Assistant. The screen emits a deceptively warm glow and illuminates the red hue of Talia's jumpsuit above the waistline. The screen itself is a mugshot of Lex Luthor, the Society's apex leader. Immaculately dressed, as usual, Luthor speaks to Talia in a manner of complete calm. As if he is fully at rest.
But Talia knows better.
"And you're sure you can do something with it?" Luthor asks with a concerned look, a furrowed brow and sharply angled eyebrows.
"She is a person, Luthor. Not a thing. But yes…"
Talia's head angles away from the communicator in her hand, its green glow lighting her neck and jaw line as she gazes skyward. A headstone taller than herself stands starkly on the hill, covered in black, as if its purpose was to absorb light. On a simple granite faceplate across the midsection—just at Talia's line of sight—a simple epitaph reads 'Zatanna Zatara'.
"I believe I can do something here."
The Batcave, underneath stately Wayne Manor.
Superman and Batman.
The main screen on the computer glows a dim green, showing a video feed of a man sitting in his padded cell, bound in a straitjacket and huddled in the corner. The video feed is just good enough that the Man of Steel sees the man's lips moving—muttering something inane. Bruce Wayne sits reclined in his chair and stares thoughtfully at the screen—a real-time surveillance at Arkham Asylum.
"You can come out, Clark," Bruce Wayne enunciates to the darkness. "There's no use in hiding from me." Wayne sips from a teacup and feigns interest: "I take it you reversed over with no problems."
A moment later, the darkness replies pointedly. "You know why I'm here."
"Hmm. Kicked her out of the League, did you?" Wayne asks after a brief pause.
"She left. I had nothing to do with it." The Man of Steel's voice is innocent enough.
Silence.
"She came by here, didn't she?" Superman says pointedly. He lifts into the air and the red cape slacks and drapes over his shoulders. "She told you about it?"
"Don't act so surprised, Clark."
"But I am."
"That's fine," Wayne responds, waving a dismissive hand. "But tell me something—"
"Don't handle me, Bruce," the Man of Steel interjects with a sneer. "I went there to save you, but I had to deal with the Syndicate first. I figured you could take care of yourself."
"Answer me," Wayne says brusquely. "The League's in pieces, Luthor's still out there, and you're wasting your time here with me? The world needs you, Clark. You need to be better, so the world can have the Superman it deserves."
"It's never good enough, is it Bruce?" the Man of Steel snaps. "It always has to be better. No one can ever meet the expectations of the great and powerful Batman!"
Silence. Superman lifts off the ground and crosses his arms over the S-diamond on his chest. Waiting for a response. Batman's chair swivels around to face the Man of Steel. Bruce Wayne himself is firmly planted within the chair, shaded in darkness; the contrast of the glowing screen behind the chair makes Wayne look even darker.
He's slouched, one leg is crossed over the other, and he steeples his fingers, carefully shielding his face. Without the x-ray vision, the Man of Steel can only see sharply angled eyebrows and piercing blue eyes.
"Get out." The phrase is simple. Wayne doesn't put much effort into it, simply speaking as if it were fact.
"What?"
"Leave. Now."
Superman attempts a protest. "Bruce, I—"
"No," Wayne says pointedly, leaning forward in his chair. His face emerges from the darkness. The face of a man who has seen too much and remembered all of it. Every detail of every crime scene. Every dead body and every hapless child staring back at him with teary, empty eyes.
"You of all people should know the value of hard work. But then…you can move planets can't you, Clark? That's not even worth breaking a sweat. And really, why bother doing much of anything if it's so easy? You have so much power that you're afraid to use it. Why?"
"Bruce, that's not—"
"You all have too much power," Wayne continues, unfettered. "That's your problem.
"You were always my problem," Superman interjects.
Wayne's eyes narrow and his jaw clenches. "No. Clark, its past time you learn what it's like to be a man. Stop wallowing in self-loathing and start living up to your namesake. Superman. World's Greatest Hero. Start acting like it."
Wayne raises his head and speaks again: "So just leave, Clark. Go back home to Lois and pretend you're worth something. Because you're no good to me."
Gotham City. Headquarters of the Society.
"Nice to have you back, Lex."
"Shut up, Noah," Luthor sneers. As he walks, he rolls the sleeves of his Oxford and shakes his head dismissively.
"You sound…"
"Sound what? Angry? Bitter?"
"Nothing," Kuttler replies hesitantly. His eyes dart around in their sockets as he follows Luthor down a flight of stairs. Luthor, it seems, is in one of those 'work work work' moods where he shuts himself off in his lab all day only to emerge and have the greatest idea this side of the pudding cup.
Even so, Kuttler follows Luthor and wrings his hands nervously. He feels around in the breast pocket of his shirt for a familiar pack of cigarettes. You don't smoke anymore, he tells himself. Damn.
They reach the bottom of the stairs, and a heavy gray corrugated door on ceiling-mounted rollers ahead of them. Luthor approaches the door and presses his palm against a red-colored control pad. The visual scanners embedded behind the screen will read his fingerprints and grant access beyond the door.
When the color of the screen changes from red to green, Luthor lifts his hand and waits for the door to lift. Kuttler hears motors in the ceiling click and whir, and the door lurches upward from the floor slowly.
Kuttler stares into the darkness for only a moment, wondering if the lights will come on. And then he sees them. A group of bodies, standing shoulder to shoulder.
"This is our new approach."
Even through his glasses, Kuttler squints. And he realizes they aren't bodies, but a series of missiles jutting from the floor on angled launchers. Kuttler frowns and turns back to Luthor.
"I thought we were going to wait."
"No," Luthor says. He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a remote control. "We're launching now."
"So…" Kuttler trails off, trying to get Luthor's explanation.
"Open the prisons, Noah. Give the inmates free reign."
"And…the OMACS?" Kuttler hesitates, sliding his hands into his pockets. Half of him almost wishes Luthor would say 'to hell with the OMACs let's do this ourselves.' But…Noah Kuttler knows better. Or so he tells himself.
"The DEO has back-up codes for activation. Get Director Bones on the line; I want those codes as soon as humanly possible."
"Yeah," Kuttler says sheepishly. "Okay, what then?"
"I'm tired of waiting," Luthor says lightly, as if shrugging the question off. "We will make the first move. And then we'll let the super-people deal with the rest."
The End